


dr habits giant.....dental drill

by redcabooze



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Briefly anyway, Crying, Crying During Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Break, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Unrealistic Sex, but he wants whats happening dont worry, degradation kink, dr habit fucks kamals brains out thats basically what this is, its light but its there, the dubcon tag is just because kamal doesnt explicitly say yes and dr habit just kind of grabs him, this is literally SO GROSS please dont read this. oh my god, very mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:48:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29195577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcabooze/pseuds/redcabooze
Summary: “Rude! You are so very mean to me, Kamal, so rude. So nasty, nasty, nasty. And so naughty - naughtier than I thought, so it seems!” Kamal gasped, heart pounding as the doctor’s thumbs slid under his waistband, peeling the fabric down off his thighs as a tortuously slow pace. “But it is okay. The doctor knows just what naughty boys need to feel all better. Habit will fix-y you right up!”
Relationships: Kamal Bora/Dr. Boris Habit
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	dr habits giant.....dental drill

**Author's Note:**

> AHHGHHHHG DONT READ THIS. DO NOT READ THIS.  
> i wrote this over a span of like two days because i was mega horny
> 
> dr habit and kamal in this fic both have dicks because writing trans porn feels too personal and makes me flustered

Kamal gasped, a strangled noise leaving his throat as his cheek pressed against the cold, steel headrest of the dental chair. “Easy,” he muttered hoarsely, eyes wide. His gaze was on the wall opposite, focusing his attention on one of the crudely-drawn posters taped to the wall, and not on the large, clawed hand pressing his skull into the chair.

His intention, initially, when coming into the doctor’s office, was to try and talk to him about the whole…’Big Event’ thing. Maybe get to whatever soft spot was buried deep in Dr. Habit’s big heart. Instead,  _ somehow,  _ he’d wound up pinned tightly to the (most definitely antiquated) dental chair in the middle of the room. 

To say that he hadn’t thought about being under Dr. Habit would be a blatant lie. In fact, he thought about it  _ so _ much that when he had been working for him, he would get so distracted by his own thoughts that Habit would have to snap him back to reality, usually with a very frustrated huff and a mumble about ‘not taking his job ser-ee-ous-leey :-(‘. Could you blame him, though, really? The guy had to be at least two feet taller than him, and Kamal couldn’t help the way his heart pounded and his dick twitched in interest anytime the doctor towered over him sternly.

Right now was no different, and Kamal could feel his breathing picking up as Dr. Habit’s chest pressed flush against his back. A curtain of auburn hair fell down, partially obscuring Kamal’s vision. “Youe have been ver-ey naughty naughty,” Dr. Habit accused, the most barely-there  _ hint _ of anger turning his gentle tone to the sinister side. Kamal felt his heart jump, arousal stirring quick in his stomach. “Do you know, you have a lot of nerve? To leave me, all  _ huffy and puffy,  _ and then march back inside like you are owning the place? How rude you are.”

“I - I wasn’t  _ trying _ to - hey!” Kamal gasped as he was forcefully flipped around, Dr. Habit’s strong hands maneuvering his body like he was some sort of ragdoll. The inevitable eroticism of being manhandled and treated like a toy went straight to Kamal’s head, and his dick, which was now tenting his pants. No good.  _ No good.  _ Suddenly being pressed uncomfortably against the dental chair didn’t seem so bad at all, especially when, out of nowhere, Habit was prying his jaw open. He made a soft noise of protest as the doctor pulled his mouth open, thumb pressing against his bottom row of teeth. Habit  _ scoffed _ , running his thumb over Kamal’s molars. Drool “Terrible,” he sneered. “You know, you were my very  _ favorite _ assisty-tant, Kamal, be-fore you left. I would think you could at  _ least _ take care of your teethses.”

Kamal sputtered, ready to point out that it was very much his fault that he hadn’t been able to brush his teeth, when he was met with a hand cupping his groin. So his boner  _ hadn’t _ gone totally undetected. He swallowed, attempting to press his thighs together only for them to quickly be pushed apart, hand darting down away from Kamal’s mouth to do so. His own spit soaked the fabric covering his thighs. “What have we here?” Dr. Habit teased, sing-song tone entirely unfitting for the situation. “Is someone having naw-tee thoughts during their check-uuuup? How  _ uncouth _ !”

Kamal groaned, turning his head to the side. Habit holding his thighs apart was too much. His hands were  _ big _ , and  _ firm,  _ and the slight sharpness of his claws digging into the meat of his thighs had him trembling, if just slightly. “Shut up,” he hissed. 

“Rude! You are so very mean to me, Kamal, so rude. So nasty, nasty, nasty. And so naughty - naughtier than I thought, so it seems!” Kamal gasped, heart pounding as the doctor’s thumbs slid under his waistband, peeling the fabric down off his thighs as a  _ tortuously  _ slow pace. “But it is okay. The doctor knows just what  _ naughty boys  _ need to feel all better. Habit will fix-y you right up!”

Kamal kept quiet as the doctor stripped him of his pants, save for some heavy breathing and the occasional grunt. His whole body burned, heat coursing uncomfortably through his veins; his face must have been as red as a tomato, and judging by how cool the air felt against his newly-exposed cock, the head of his dick must have been the same shade. Without so much as a verbal warning, or even just a quick squeeze of the thigh, Dr. Habit was palming at Kamal’s dick. Not stroking it, not even rubbing it, really - just grinding the ball of his hand against the base of his cock, a sick grin on his face as Kamal keened at the sudden touch, hips jerking and arching up against him. It was  _ embarrassing.  _ The only emotion any normal person should feel when being grabbed by a seven-foot-four medical professional and forced against a chair should be fear.

“Iz this what you wanted?” Dr. Habit cooed, his tone brash and condescending. “Is this whye you marched your little way right up into my office? How did you even getting inside of here, hm? Are you a little  _ thief _ , stealing my  _ keys?! _ ” Kamal wanted to remind Habit that he had, in fact, had a key of his own before leaving his spot as a dental assistant, but he was far too distracted by the fact that there were fingers prodding at his hole. 

“One at a time!” he blurted in a panic, red-faced and wide-eyed. He wasn’t going to tell Dr. Habit  _ no _ , but if this was happening, he had a feeling there was going to be a consistent need to remind the doctor just how much bigger he was than him. Dr. Habit paused, only briefly, and rolled his eyes loudly; he pushed  _ one _ finger into Kamal, and even that was enough to draw a shocked gasp from his lips. He clasped a hand over his mouth, frame tensing at the intrusion. His hands were big. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known before, it was  _ very _ apparent, but it was a hell of a lot  _ more _ apparent now that one long, thick finger was stretching him open.

Kamal felt very small. 

“Dramatic,” Dr. Habit accused, wrenching Kamal’s fingers away from his mouth. He grabbed Kamal’s face firmly between his thumb and forefinger, dragging him up into a rough, messy kiss. Kamal sputtered, but opened his mouth anyway, squeezing his eyes shut. There...he...he seemed to have  _ several rows of teeth _ , Kamal noted, his heart dropping into his stomach. It was like some sort of horror movie. There were at least three rows packed behind his first set, and Kamal really didn’t want to know where he had got them or how they were staying in. The terror of realization coupled with the tense pleasure shooting up his spine was doing something funny to his head; he hoped he wouldn’t need therapy or anything after this. He ran his tongue nervously over the bottom of Habit’s top rows of teeth, as if trying to establish some weak semblance of dominance. It was lost immediately as another finger was pressed into him, brushing against some spot that made his whole body jerk. He let out a choked noise into Habit’s mouth, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

Within what felt like a few seconds, but had probably realistically been at least several minutes, Dr. Habit pulled away from Kamal, fingers sliding free from his hole. Kamal felt utterly dazed, his lips swollen - his cock was leaking steadily onto his stomach. At this point he had almost forgotten why he’d come into Dr. Habit’s office to begin with; he just knew it  _ wasn’t  _ for this. “Fuck,” he muttered, bringing a hand up to wipe the drool from his mouth. His lips tingled. He heard the vague sound of a belt buckle, and then the sound of metal and leather hitting the floor. That wasn’t alarming. What was alarming was the sudden weight against Kamal’s inner thigh.

That thing had to be the size of his fucking forearm.

Kamal gaped, shocked back to reality as Dr. Habit gathered his legs up under the knees, spreading him open and pushing his knees up to his chest. “Th-That’s not gonna fit!” Kamal cried, gripping desperately at the dental chair’s armrests. “Are you nuts? Come on, Boris, I’m - I’m way smaller than you.” Dr. Habit didn’t seem to be listening. Kamal’s breathing picked up, excitement fighting with common sense in his head as the massive head of Dr. Habit’s cock poked against him. Okay, this was...it would be okay, right? “Hello? E-Earth to Dr. Habit?!” He had dildos  _ almost _ that big, it wouldn’t be any different. He was just freaking out for no reason. 

Kamal held his breath as Habit pressed into him, firm and slow. There was no stopping to assure he was okay, or to give him time to adjust; just one long, slow slide in, until he seemed to meet some sort of resistance. Kamal exhaled deeply at the break. He regretted it instantly. Dr. Habit grunted, bracing his knee against the side of the chair, and gave one hard  _ thrust  _ into his poor assistant, successfully bottoming out inside of him.

Kamal had never felt so full in his life. He gave a long, shuddering breath, holding onto the chair for dear life. His walls twitched around Habit’s cock, his body tensing and un-tensing desperately in an attempt to adjust to the massive intrusion. Hesitantly, almost afraid to, Kamal took one, trembling hand and placed it over his abdomen just below his belly button. He prodded his fingers against the raised skin, pressing in on a bulge that had definitely not been there prior.

Dr. Habit grunted.

Kamal let his head fall back against the chair, pleasure running through his frame slowly, like a warm buildup, as the shock of having something so big forced into him finally left. “Oh,” he moaned out shakily, his voice sounding foreign to him. “ _ Fuck. _ ”

“You are feeling better?” Dr. Habit asked. His voice was raw, almost strained. Like he was holding back.

“Yeah,” Kamal whined. He could feel his thighs quivering violently, even with Dr. Habit holding them in place. “Fuck me.”

That was all the incentive the doctor seemed to need. Kamal expected a slow pace, maybe something to get him used to it. He had not expected to have the wind knocked out of him by the doctor’s immediate  _ violent _ pace. It was apparent he was desperate, or at least had been before this; Kamal felt like he was being turned inside out, eyes wide. His mouth had fallen open, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak, not really; He just gave a pitchy, desperate cry each time Habit’s cock was plunged back into him. Not fair. Not fair. This was so, so not fair.

“Fuck me,” he sputtered, his mouth betraying him. It was intense. It was so,  _ so _ intense - he’d never felt so good in his life. His cock bounced untouched against his stomach, his tip rubbing against his bare skin each time he was pushed into. “Fuck me, fuck me - God - oh, shit - “ He clasped his hands over his mouth, eyes rolling back into his head as a tear rolled down his face. He had never once felt so humiliated just from sex. Dr. Habit was absolutely ruining him, and he was painfully aware of it. Where the fuck  _ else  _ was he going to get turned out like this? His guts felt warm and gooey, red hot pleasure shooting up his spine with each rough press into him. His body jerked every time, tears falling uncontrollably from his eyes. 

Kamal came with a start, barely even aware that it had been coming; he just screamed, hot pleasure shooting up his spine as he spilled onto his own stomach. Dr. Habit did not stop moving. “Oh - oh -“ Kamal grit his teeth, trying desperately to come down from his high, at least for a moment. It was in vain. Each thrust just brought him higher onto the podium of overstimulation. “Doct - Doctor - H-Hab - ohh, h-hold on, fuck - “ He gasped, rolling his hips desperately, squirming, as if it would somehow get him away from the pain-pleasure of  _ too much _ . He tossed his head back and cried out again, jaw falling open. “Too - I-It’s too - I’ll s-suck you off or so - oh - FUCK!” Kamal let out another scream as the head of Boris’s cock jammed against his g-spot. Stars dotted his vision.

“Do you want me to stop, just because you are all-dones?” Dr. Habit snapped, a growl to his tone as he leaned further down over his assistant; Kamal grabbed onto the doctor’s shoulder quickly, squeezing hard. His throat felt parched. “You want me to stop for you when I am not finished? You are so selfish, Kamal.” Despite his harsh words, there was a glimmer of concern behind his eyes. “ _ Do you want me to stop? _ ” He asked again, more firmly. 

Kamal gave a rattling breath. His brain felt like goo. “No,” he muttered, shaking his head pathetically. “Fuh-uck. Harder.” 

It  _ wouldn’t  _ be right to leave Dr. Habit hanging, even if Kamal could feel his thighs shaking violently from the force of his own overstimulation. He’d only been inside him for five minutes, maybe...or had it been longer? Time was kind of running together as the doctor pumped into him at the same unfaltering pace he’d been going at before. The point was that it was Kamal’s fault he’d cum so early, and now he needed to stick it out.

...and maybe, just maybe, he liked the edge of too-much as he felt another orgasm building in the bundle of painful heat curled in his abdomen. 

Kamal squeezed tightly at Habit’s shoulders, letting out pitchy noises each time his body was rocked back against the squeaky dental chair. It was easy to sink into the hot, blissful intensity of being absolutely reamed, his fingernails digging into the doctor’s coat as he was fucked. Dr. Habit mouth was on his neck, suddenly, kissing him, running his tongue along his jawline; his mouth felt  _ hot _ , almost burning against Kamal’s already-warm skin, and he hissed at the contact. “Fuck,” he whispered. His voice sounded miles away, and it was getting especially hard to focus on anything besides Dr. Habit’s dick splitting him open.

He was gonna cum again, he realized.

“No way,” he slurred out, trying to squeeze his thighs together, as if that would stop the building tension. His knees just knocked against Habit’s sides, which didn’t seem to deter him at all. It felt good. He felt  _ good _ . He hadn’t felt this relaxed in years, and it was so easy and simple and good to just let himself lie back and be taken. Maybe that was why he opened his mouth so readily when Dr. Habit moved in for another kiss, sloppy and wet and hot. He didn’t care about the teeth, or how unsettlingly long his tongue was. Dr. Habit was fucking him. And kissing him. And taking care of him. And it felt fucking  _ good _ .

“You are crying, my lov-eh-lee little rosebud,” Dr. Habit breathed into his ear, his voice low and raspy. He must have been close. Kamal realized he was right when one clawed finger wiped at his cheek; he hadn’t even realized. He let out a cracked sob, which slid into a dopey giggle.

“I’m okay,” he promised. “I-I’m not upset, I’m - I - “ his stomach tightened, his back arching off the seat as much as it could with a seven-foot-four Russian pinning him down. “I’m  _ cumming! _ ”

For the second time that night, Kamal released over his own chest; weak spurts of liquid dripped from his spent dick, and Kamal grit his teeth, eyes rolling back. His head felt totally blank, like everything inside of him was being held together by a thin wire that would break at any moment. He was sweating. His shirt had to have been soaked by now, and for one brief moment, as Dr. Habit’s thrusts  _ picked up,  _ he thought he was going to have to cum again.

Instead, Dr. Habit came with a choked noise, his grip on Kamal’s thighs borderlining on painful as he burned himself deep inside of his former assistant. Kamal sputtered in shock, eyes wide as whatever strings holding his sanity in place snapped. As if the massive tool stretching him open weren’t enough, the doctor was cumming  _ inside  _ him. His guts felt hot. Gooey and hot and messy and  _ full _ . He laid his head back, staring, unfocused, at the ceiling. Dr. Habit pulled out slowly, letting Kamal feel every inch of cock that was pulled from inside him until he popped out with a wet noise. Kamal would have thought it was gross if he could think very much at all. He was finding it hard to piece together two thoughts that weren’t about Dr. Habit or his dick. 

Vaguely, he heard the shuffling of fabric as Habit pulled his pants up over his hips, and then suddenly his chin was being tilted up for a much more gentle kiss. It was borderline apologetic. Kamal just groaned uselessly and kissed right back, his trembling fingers cupping desperately at Boris’s jaw. 

“Let us go get you kleen-ed up. I will run you a warm hot bath.” There were hands on him now, tugging him into a pair of arms. Dr. Habit sounded very far away, but Kamal nodded. Clean. That sounded nice. He felt... _ sticky _ . Outside and inside. 

“Can I be your assist...ytant...again?” Kamal slurred out, gripping at Dr. Habit’s jacket as lucidity began to seep it’s way back into his head. This was happening again, right? This had to happen again. No way in hell was he letting Dr. Boris Habit fuck him into a coma and get away with it.

“Of corse! I thoght you would neber ask!” A beat. “But bath-time first, bokay?”

**Author's Note:**

> i need a shower.


End file.
